While most of my stories tend to be dark, this one is bordering on pure surrealism. A story about unknowable and strange things I call:

Like Insects 

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The beetle’s liquid squirts up in an arc once the needle plunges into its exoskeleton. It squirms, the legs trying to run.

The man holds the needle with a pair of fingers, not even feeling the momentum of his tiny victim. He pushes down until the needle breaks into the corkboard. The bug keeps failing to escape. Continue reading →